Impact Series Box Set | Books 1-6

by Isherwood, E. E.

  Ezra was close to sharing details about the hike he’d taken with his wife, but the sound of motorcycles came from the forest on the north side of the four-lane highway. Since they were going south, he hopped on his bike and pedaled for the muddy trail. They cruised over the rocks and mud for about fifty yards before they reached the first fallen tree. Ahead, two more trunks blocked the way. It wasn’t quite as nice of a trail as he remembered it.

  “We’ll never ride through here,” he lamented.

  There was no time to go back.

  The whiny engines were already on the highway and getting closer.

  Ezra stayed calm and pulled off his rifle.

  Butch already had his out.

  Isla Socorro

  Petteri had barely hung up the phone with Secretary Stricker before Howard came into his posh living room. It was fitting his security chief would show up. Howard’s job was to make sure no surprises would jump out of the bushes now that Petteri had hitched TKM’s wagon to the government response.

  “Good day, Howard. What have you got for me?”

  “Hello, sir. As ordered, I’ve been keeping track of all the moving pieces back on the mainland. I’m happy to say we still have all the scientists and the other threats to our public relations program under wraps. They’re locked up in Texas, mainly.”

  “Being kept comfortable, I assume?” In one of his moments of brilliance, he thought about putting all those people on a plane and dropping them into one of the meteorite craters. It would serve as a foolproof way of ridding himself of troublesome ex-employees, but he couldn’t spare the aircraft for such a trip. Plus, if things were as bad as they appeared, brainpower could be an important commodity in the near future. Having them around could benefit his bottom line.

  “As you instructed. They think we’re keeping them locked up for their own protection from the falling rocks.”

  “Excellent job. Keep them happy enough they don’t come out of isolation wanting to sabotage me and my company. I think I’ll have work for them soon enough.” He hesitated, needing to address the one loose end Howard seemed unable to close. “What about Asher and the park ranger?”

  Howard scrunched his face in disgust. “Still no word from my man on the ground. I’m beginning to think he was hurt in the impact last night. It’s not his style to go offline like this, though the entire middle of the country is now in a communications blackout.”

  Petteri walked to a window to look out on the ocean. If their cleanup man had taken care of things the previous night, he might be able to focus entirely on the recovery effort. As it was, he needed to worry about preventing the spread of Asher’s lies. That included the video he and the park ranger lady left on the internet, where he implicated TKM in general, and Petteri in particular, as having caused the world’s near-destruction. His tech people had done a great job scrubbing it, but they refused to say with absolute certainty they’d erased every copy in existence.

  “If Misha comes back to life, tell him he better track down and resolve these outstanding issues, or he really can kiss his family goodbye.” He’d issued the same threat the night before, hoping it would result in the termination of the thorny pests. Since he hadn’t heard from the man, he had no idea if he needed to order Misha’s family killed. He didn’t consider himself an unreasonable monster; he’d wait a little bit longer.

  “I will, sir. Does that include the scientists?” Howard asked cautiously.

  Petteri harbored no personal animosity toward the confined scientists. He’d happily let them go free when they could no longer help him. Asher Creighton had made it personal when he and his park ranger girlfriend stood in front of video cameras and dragged the Tikkanen name through the dirt.

  “No, of course not. They’re my guests. I’m only talking about Asher and the girl. Make them your priority.”

  “I will, sir.”

  He was inspired to hurry things along. “And, Howard, send another cleanup team out there. What the hell, send two. If Misha is dead, we may never know if he succeeded. I’d rather have a second and third team on the roll, so we don’t lose any time, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do, Mr. Tikkanen.” He stood there for a few seconds too long.

  Petteri smirked. “Then get to it!”

  Chapter 9

  Cooke City, Montana

  It took two hours for Grace to get the convoy to Cooke City, which was little more than a waystation on the drive out of the immense national park. The fire was far behind them, but they were committed to the only road out of the northeast corner of Yellowstone. The menacing clouds squatted over the peaks of the Beartooth Mountains, though Grace feared the two-thousand-degree heat from a forest fire a lot more than any storm.

  The frosty white Suburban with the fancy wheels was nowhere in sight.

  “They didn’t wait for us,” she said worriedly.

  “It looks like they went on, despite your warning,” Asher said as they drove into what was left of the town. It had a few small rustic motels and a gas station, but they’d been abandoned. No one was left, not even the cars who had gone ahead of her convoy.

  Her laugh carried little mirth. “I know this might surprise you, but not everyone listens to me. I guess they didn’t think there was any risk in pushing forward.”

  “After being out in those woods on my own, I never want to be alone again. Well, at least not in the outdoors.” He fidgeted with something in his front pocket. A hint of a blue box confirmed it was his pack of cigarettes; he’d kept them, even after claiming he’d given up smoking.

  She didn’t blame him for being afraid. Her dad taught her not to be a shrinking violet, but she did have nightmares about dealing with criminals while she was alone out on her patrols. That was her mom’s cautious voice; in the few times they’d talked recently, her mom always told her to be careful. Always. Being with Asher had been a welcome relief during a dangerous time, and she was confident they were on the right path. “We’ll push on. I think maybe the people ahead of our convoy scared the locals into going with them. You know, told them the fire was coming. I’d run, too, if I saw a hundred cars speed by.”

  She had a deeper fear, based on very real dangers. “Do you think I should wait for Tessa to get into town so we can see if Misha is with her?”

  Asher pulled his hand from his pocket and waved dismissively. “Oh, that? I’m telling you, it can’t be him. The guy was so crazy he’d be killing all the people behind us until we were the only two left.”

  “Maybe he’s injured?” she said hopefully.

  “It isn’t him. Trust me.”

  Asher seemed so convinced, she almost believed it. Even so, she decided to hedge her bets by calling back to Tessa. “Hey, Tessa, this is Grace, come in.”

  “Tessa here. Go ahead.”

  “It looks like we’ll get no help in Cooke City. It’s empty. I’m going to push on and try to get over the mountains. I’d like to, uh, talk to you in person when we get to the pass.” She had to think of words that wouldn’t sound the alarm for Tessa’s passenger. “The convoy will break up once we get to Red Lodge. As park rangers, our authority will end there, so we have to plan what we’re going to do afterward.”

  “What about my passenger?” she asked. “He needs medical attention.”

  Leave him in Cooke City. Never look back.

  “I’m sorry. He’ll have to hold on until we can make it over the mountains.”

  Tessa was silent for half a minute before coming back on. “Okay, but he might not make it.” She spoke at a whisper. “Grace, he wears a gun on his hip.”

  She wanted to wring the other woman’s neck for giving away the game. If Misha knew they were talking about him… Grace waited as long as she dared, expecting Misha to jump on the CB and announce he’d killed Tessa and Chester, and was coming for her next. She almost jumped when Tessa spoke at a normal voice.

  “Grace, you still there?”

  She glanced at Asher and feigned wiping sweat fr
om her brow. Then, she keyed the microphone again. “I’m here. Let’s talk when we get to the top. I want to keep everyone moving. It’ll do us no good to have to explain why no one is here.” Her reasoning sounded fine on the CB, but her real motivation was to stay ahead of Misha. If she stopped now, Grace was certain there’d be trouble. The longer she could convince the hitman he needed to stay put, and not cause trouble, the better chance she had of getting some help on the other side of the mountains. She also carried a police-issue Glock to keep the odds close, but she didn’t want to use it near all the innocent families.

  “Sounds good. We’ll keep this man comfortable until we get some help. Tessa out.”

  Yes, keep my would-be killer alive. Sounds swell.

  Kentucky

  Ezra and Butch had a few seconds to prepare for the arrival of the motorcycles. There were numerous downed trees alongside the trail, so they tossed their bikes over one of them and took cover. He shucked off his pack and rifle, to give himself options.

  The high-pitched whining of 250cc engines indicated they were dirt bikes. The riders sped across the road and the pitch changed when they left the pavement, like they had to labor through the mud. The riders took some time to weave around the downed trees, but the motors made it easy. As they went by Ezra’s hiding spot, flecks of mud sloshed over the tree trunk and landed in the forest around him.

  When they’d gone by, but before they got too far away, Ezra peeked. There were four of them, filthy with mud down their backsides of their matching white jumpsuits, and they seemed to know what they were doing based on how fast they cut along the trail.

  As he slouched back behind the fallen oak, he noticed it was warmer when he got close to the bark. The unusual presence of heat prompted him to study the tree.

  “This ain’t good,” he said quietly.

  “What’s up?” Butch replied.

  “This tree is smoldering,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Butch laughed. “After that rain last night? No way.” But as he said it, Butch craned his neck to look under the fallen tree. A large crack had been created when it hit the ground. The innards of the massive trunk were filled with hot coals. “You’re right; it is.”

  Ezra looked around, remembering the fires he’d seen in the area last night. The meteorite impact must have torched the forest before the rains managed to stop the spread. If the fire was waiting inside the trees, it could spring to life again.

  “We’ve got to keep moving.”

  Once they were sure the motorbikes were well down the trail, they lugged their bicycles back over the tree. It was too muddy to ride them. The red clay soil caked up on the tires as soon as they tried. The bikes had come at a high cost, so he wasn’t ready to toss them aside. If they could reach the road again, or find a dry section of dirt trail, they’d be thankful for them.

  They slogged along, doing their best to walk on rocks, leaves, and other debris. They followed the checkerboard-pattern tire imprints of the cycles for about fifteen minutes. It had become much darker, and a fine mist gradually became a light drizzle. They halted once to cut up the tarp into rain ponchos for them and smaller coverings for their Bushmaster rifles.

  “Do you hear that?” Ezra said, stopping on the trail. A series of motors revved repeatedly from deeper in the forest. Though many of the trees had fallen, their tall branches made it impossible to see more than a hundred yards or so into the forest. The vehicles making the commotion weren’t visible. All he could say for sure was they were full-sized truck engines, rather than motorcycles. “I think those are Jeeps.”

  “What are all these people doing in the woods? Don’t they know what’s happening?” Butch pointed to a fallen tree with small puffs of smoke coming out of a hole on its side.

  They walked for a few more minutes, careful to avoid getting closer to the engine sounds. The rain increased to a steady drizzle, which tapped on their makeshift ponchos with loud pops. When they came over a small rise, all the distractions slowed his reaction time. Ahead, the four men stood in the middle of the trail with their bikes, as if talking about where to go next.

  “Butch!” he hissed. The big man walked a few extra steps before halting. About fifty yards separated the two parties, but the sudden stop seemed to call attention to themselves. One of the bikers looked in their direction.

  “Run!” Ezra said quietly, even though it was too late for stealth.

  The motorcyclists started their engines, signaling the start of a race. Ezra’s heart seemed to pound against his rib cage as his flight response took over his brain. “Ditch the bikes!” he ordered as he left the trail and nearly slid down a muddy hill.

  Butch followed until they went into a small creek bed, then he took the lead. “Follow me, E-Z.”

  Along the way, they both pulled the rifles from their shoulders. He flicked off the safety at the first opportunity, then he held it with both hands as he ran, sure he would have to use it.

  This can’t be happening.

  The motocross guys easily caught up, and soon shadowed them as they ran down the creek bed. Butch was unperturbed, however. He kept up a brisk pace as the terrain became steeper. The pursuit had to drive around downed trees, or jump over smaller ones, but they had engines to keep up. Eventually, Ezra realized they were toying with them, keeping pace but not overtaking.

  The rain picked up as they went down the hill, and the nearby whine of the motorcycles made it hard to hear anything else, but there was a new sound: Jeeps.

  He immediately thought of two competing directives.

  Get to the Jeeps to find help.

  Stay away from the Jeeps; we might get innocent people hurt.

  He had a third directive as well: to save Butch, no matter the cost. The young kid was his responsibility. “Run for those sounds!” he shouted, knowing he couldn’t be heard by the guys with the helmets.

  Butch got them to a low point as the creek leveled out into a small valley. The taillights of vehicles were a hundred yards away. All they had to do was outrun the engines, who still had to contend with snaking around the fallen trees.

  “Go for it!” he yelled.

  He and Butch did their best to hop over trunks and get around patches of mud. Everything had been doused by the rain the night before, and the tiny creek seemed to pick up more water every ten feet. Sometimes they had to run through the meandering waterway to keep on the direct path to the Jeeps.

  The motorcycles kept their distance from the creek, never straying too far. As they moved around the broken terrain, Ezra saw them as sheepdogs keeping him and Butch always within sight.

  A colorful green Jeep caught his eye ahead. Then a blue one. Finally, a yellow Toyota FJ Cruiser. He still didn’t like the idea of dragging the Jeepers into their escape from the bikers, but his life was on the line. He had no choice but to find safety in numbers. If they needed to use their rifles to defend themselves, then so be it. Maybe being with others would be enough to get the motorcycles to move on.

  The men around the Jeeps were doing an activity he recognized right away. One of their party was stuck in the mud, and the other two vehicles were trying to extract the third. Guys stood around with tow ropes, come-alongs, and muddy two-by-fours, like they’d been at it for a long time.

  “Help!” he called out as he neared.

  He and Butch were waved in by the weary-looking guys around the Jeeps, but they didn’t appear properly worried about the motorcycles approaching from different directions, like wolves converging on sheep. It was only when he got close enough to see several pistols—pointed at him—that he formulated a possible reason why.

  “Aw hell,” he breathed heavily. “They’re all together.”

  Chapter 10

  Beartooth Highway, WY

  “We never got snow like this in Denver. City snow must be different.” Asher kept his hands on the heater vent; the temperature had been dropping since they left Cooke City. The truck had almost no windows, and was missing a door, so it was
a lot like riding in a convertible.

  “This isn’t typical for Yellowstone, either,” she replied dryly. “It’s black, for crying out loud.”

  The two-lane highway was already blanketed with the black, sooty snowfall, making it impossible to see the yellow lines painted on the pavement. There weren’t any tire tracks, either, suggesting the snow had recently started. As it fell on the rocky terrain around her, and as the cloud cover smothered the sky, the day seemed to turn into night.

  Asher shivered. “The meteorite debris must have gone into the atmosphere. We’re catching it here as it comes back down, along with the snow.”

  It got worse with each mile. At first, it was only the accumulation which raised concerns. Then, the extreme precipitation cut visibility to almost nothing, furthering the illusion of nighttime. When they reached a wide, treeless plateau below the final ridgeline of the pass, Grace thought she saw lights working their way up the switchbacks to the top. “There! Those are headlights.”

  Asher strained to see out the front windshield. The wipers managed to clear the snow, but the black soot left streaks with each pass, especially where the chipped glass of the bullet hole tore at the wiper blades. “Those must be the people who drove ahead of us. We’re catching up to them.”

  Grace desperately wished she’d thought ahead before she led the convoy out of the visitors’ center. Normally, she would have kept an NPS jacket in the truck, but hers was back at the Bay Bridge campground. In the Suburban, even with the heater at full blast, she was barely able to control the violent shaking caused by the frigid air. Even a light coat would have made a huge difference.

  “I hate to say it, but I’m beginning to think taking this truck was a mistake. I’m going to freeze to death before we reach the pass. The sign said we’d be going up to 10,900 feet, and we’re still at least a thousand from the top.”

  “Should we get out and ask to borrow some coats?” he suggested.